


Gilded Contempt

by VelvetFog



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Aphrodite's Aid, Enemies to Empathetic Fuckbuddies, Eventual Smut, Gen, Light BDSM, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Spoilers - Ending, Spoilers - Epilogue, background Established Asterius/Theseus, misuse of keepsakes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29274189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VelvetFog/pseuds/VelvetFog
Summary: “What’s the matter, King?” Called the Godling, taunting words dripping with ridicule.Dazed and flushed red, the champion could only blink languidly in response. His limbstoo heavy with devotion to muster the strength to raise his weapons.(Theseus tries to sate his curiosity about the returned Queen Persephone by venturing down to the House of Hades, only to repeatedly get punched in the gut by the Prince's humility - intoxicated by the pure Life he exudes.)
Relationships: Theseus/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	Gilded Contempt

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS for references to end of the game AND it's epilogue scene
> 
> If you're here for the E rating it will apply mainly to the last chapter because I like my horny rival smut built up with awkward encounters.

“I hear she’s radiant as the midsummer sun, and kinder than Lord Hades by far.”  
  
“You’re sure it was her?!”  
  
“That’s what they say - the Queen! She’s returned to her rightful throne!”

One lingering shade gestures wildly to the other, while yet another still looks on, mystified at the news.

At the mention of the former queen of the underworld, Theseus’ attention is torn away from the ever-ripe contents of the coliseum fruit stalls, to the ever-gossiping shades and their excitement. He remembers that time, when the queen had disappeared, no one was quite sure why or if it was true, though the fresher souls of heroes, having returned to Elysium after an audience with Lord Hades - dejected, perhaps in tears - recalled their experience in the House. Cold and quiet, they would say. From other Chthonic Gods to bitter and forgotten shades, all under the employ of the god of the dead wore solemn expressions - something important had changed but that information had never truly come to light.  
  
_Until now ,_ a traitorous part of the King’s mind supplied. Curiosity would always get the better of him. With a need to confirm the presence of the benevolent queen Persephone, came the dread of confirming the hellspawn’s claims. _Prince_ of the underworld? Unlikely, for that would surely name the daemon a God. These concepts are laughable to Theseus, easily brushed aside - or they would have been, had his _dear_ Asterius not become accustomed to referring to the persistent, _vile_ creature from the depths of Tartarus as such.  
  
A shout of glee from another group of shades loitering near the riverbank, gaze drawn to the swirling surface of the Lethe, snapped Theseus out of his musings. He hurriedly gathered up an assortment of fruits and made swiftly to leave the chamber, nearly forgetting his true purpose for venturing out while off duty this fine day or night. Asterius, however plagued by his misconceptions about their unrelenting opponent, still deserved the best flavors Elysium had to offer.  
  


* * *

  
A pristine fruit was plucked from it's basket by Asterius, careful not to pierce it’s supple flesh with his claws. He turned his attention back to Theseus, who insists on pacing their chamber in an unusually silent bout of deep thought. The bull regards him, their silence punctuated only with the crunch of an apple. Asterius chews, the King sighs.  
  
“I fear I still do not understand.”  
  
“Asterius!” Theseus throws his hands up in despair.  
  
Asterius ignores the King’s exasperated cry. “It does not matter, how many times you explain it. You may go to Lord Hades at any time as you are under his employ, can you not? Surely you can just inquire?” He placed the remainder of the fruit into his mouth, strong jaw making short work of it, core and all.  
  
“And _surely_ I will be accused of wasting his Lord’s time! My friend please! I have not to this day had reason to make my way back to that place!”  
  
Asterius did not look impressed by the King’s excuses. _They weren’t excuses! Who knows what Lord Hades would decide was appropriate punishment for prying into his personal life._

Before the bull could answer, the voice of a swift-approaching shade called out. “My champions! I trust the parchment work is ready? You know Lord Hades expects those reports as soon as possible!”  
  
In an instant, the King’s face lit up, bright, blinding and brimming with mischief as he turned to his companion with a grin. 

* * *

Looming stone pillars greeted Theseus as he approached the throne of Lord Hades, only slightly less intimidating than the initial time he pulled himself from the Styx, wary and disoriented with fresh demise.  
  


Petals, ever-falling and candles, ever-flickering brought a different warmth to the hall - something more than what it used to be even before the Queen disappeared. It nearly felt comfortable this time around, as towels were now provided to cleanse one’s skin of the red waters, while the delicate strum of a lyre floats through the halls.  
  
The King turns his head, catching a brief flash of movement only to find his own surprised face staring back at him from the west wing. His gaze drops to the small yet finely crafted rug below. _How unusually thoughtful of the Lord of the dead, to offer a cushioning for one’s feet whilst they admire themselves in such a grande mirror!_  
  
“Well?! Get on with it, I don’t have all night.”  
  
The King startles, whipping his head away from his own smiling face and toward a very decidedly not-smiling God of the dead.  
  
“Or day.” Hades added, significantly less bone-rattling.  
  
Theseus started to sweat.  
  
“Ah! My Lord Hades! I require not but a moment of your valuable time!” He began, blessedly thankful for the absence of quiver in his voice.  
  
“You have taken more than a moment of my _valuable time_ already, Champion of Elysium.” Hades bellowed, unimpressed.  
  
“O-of course! My deepest apologies, my Lord!” Said champion stuttered, jogging the last few steps up to the massive stone desk. Awkwardly standing on his toes, Theseus managed to slide his perfectly rolled, immaculately written damage report toward the God of the dead. “Lord Hades! M-my reports!" He fumbled ever so slightly. "I shall see to it that _all_ documents from Elysium are hand-delivered with utmost care, to ensure tha--”  
  
“Eugh. Enough!” Hades boomed, letting out a frustrated sigh. “You need only add it to the pile and be on your way, _King Theseus_ .” He spat, the name like a curse. It was definitely time to leave. “Dismissed.”  
  
“Understood! Of course!” Theseus backed up, nodding frantically, eyes unable to leave the disappointed face of his employer. He stumbled, having bumped into another shade, patiently waiting behind him in a very long line, of very weary souls.  
  
They looked at him curiously as he backed away towards the east wing offering a bright smile and a wave before turning, some intrigued - captivated even, by the grandeur of the Elysian Champion, others exasperated, rolling their lifeless eyes, at the grandeur of the Elysian Champion.  
  


* * *

  
Safe from the leer of Lord Hades, Theseus allowed his smile to drop. It was in no way a comfortable encounter, but his employer seems to be none the wiser about the champion’s true purpose here. The eerily pleasant atmosphere of the great hall appeared to spread, warmth overflowing into every otherwise gruesome crevice.  
  
All at once, the aroma of fresh roses brought Theseus to an immediate halt. How long had it been since he had the pleasure of smelling something so sweet, so _alive?_ The champion let his eyes fall closed, greedily inhaling as much of the scent as he could - it was the gardens he played in as a child, visiting his mother’s bedchambers, any number of fair maidens, tending to a boisterous young man’s thorn-laden fingers. Roses marked a simpler time before Theseus’ life was plagued by unjust deaths and listless unwise choices, ultimately leading to a betrayal by the Gods most foul.  
  
King Theseus reopened his eyes. He was _not_ here to reminisce himself into a pit of despair. Not today at least - he will save those thoughts for a time when his darling bovine companion and his fine, furred chest become available to console him.  
  
Pulling himself once again from his spiraling thoughts, the champion turned his gaze to the end of the east wing. He was certain it was a formerly cold, dark corner untouched by even the brightest candle back then. 

Now however, it was bright and open. Surely not as bright as the sun, but what need did the denizens of the underworld have for the sun when they had Queen Persephone in her renowned glory, returned and loved by all. Theseus looked on in awe. She was as she had been, before. Adorned in the finest gold, priceless gems and robes fit only for a queen, Persephone appeared to be digging around in the dirt. Odd for royalty, the King thought idly as he watched on. The Queen wore a gentle smile, unbothered by the soil under her nails, the grass staining her gown, or the overall dreary inhabitants of her domain, few occasionally loitering by the entrance, content to watch her breathe life into the deepest pocket of Hell.  
  
Theseus was shaken out of his meandering thoughts once again by a loud laugh coupled with the clink of glass. Ah. The lounge of course. Theseus was far too distracted by his initial death to even think of drinking at the time - obsessed with the idea of the Bull of Minos joining him in the afterlife. Until this moment, any thoughts of the lounge were gone, replaced with dark patient eyes and the exhilarating rush of the arena.  
  
The champion leaned ever so slightly to peek into the lounge. It was beautifully decorated with the same welcoming ambience as the main hall, with what must be fairly new furnishings. Baffled that such a space would exist below, Theseus found himself nearly stepping through the doorway - until another burst of boyish laughter coupled with an airy feminine chuckle, caused him to turn.  
  
And to freeze.  
  
Surely those magnificent, melodious sounds hadn’t originated from the hellspawn and his fury companion sitting off to the side there. Such a sharp contrast was the daemon’s easy, relaxed expression to the taunting grin he brought to battle!  
  
Theseus had to leave, immediately.  
  


* * *

  
The champion willed himself back home, orange flames of convenient transportation fading as he stepped back into Elysium, shaken and flustered by the image replaying in his mind of the so-called _Prince_ , flushed with nectar and mirth. He thanked the Gods for the first time, that he was dead, therefore did not have to walk bodily back to his post. It would have been mortifying to be caught, admiring the fiend’s dwelling.  
  
Theseus made his way back to the arena, sure to take the longest possible route.  
  


* * *

  
It wasn’t long after the King’s return that both champions were summoned - the blasted fiend fast approaching. Asterius kept looking back as they made their way to the coliseum, expectant of Theseus - expecting _what_ , the King could just not fathom.   
  
“My King.” Asterius rumbled.  
  
Theseus carried on, pretending not to have heard.  
  
“Theseus.”  
  
Ah. No easy way out.  
  
“Hmmm? Did you say something my friend?” He turned and smiled, his wide grin extruding confidence under the bull’s scrutiny.  
  
“What is it that you saw in the House of Hades that has terrified you so?”  
  


* * *

  
Cheers and shouts from a most enthusiastic crowd were nearly deafened by the King’s own pounding heart as the daemon closed in, sword drawn, ruby eye gleaming with wicked delight.  
  
The battle had been underway for some time, Theseus backing away, enticing the monster to the center of the arena, to allow Asterius to get behind. Yet the fiend kept his focus, allowing himself to be hit, unflinching, heinous lips pulling into a smirk. Ah. Of course he was up to something - his being was aglow, charged with divine mischief.  
  
“Lady Aphrodite!”  
  
The King steeled himself for the worst, of course the cruel daemon would pit the Goddess of love against him! He’d failed her far too often in his mortal days - perhaps had he worshipped his lovers as the Gods themselves she would’ve taken pity on him.  
  
Searing heat shot through the champion as the fiend’s smile grew.  
  
_Alas, no pity received, then._  
  
Theseus was pinned as time slowed, unable to look away from the otherworldly beauty advancing on him. The smoldering warmth in his chest burst into flames, engulfing the champion in wanton desire when the daemon locked eyes. He could feel it deep in his soul - his head was clouded with flowing nectar, a woman’s voice, the crack of a whip - affection, praise, discipline; everything. The creature’s insatiable appetite for both pain and pleasure alike rolled off him in such dizzying waves that Theseus was sure he would drown.  
  
“What’s the matter, King?” Called the Godling, taunting words dripping with ridicule.  
  
Dazed and flushed red, the champion could only blink languidly in response. His limbs too heavy with devotion to muster the strength to raise his weapons.  
  
That is, until Asterius breached the King’s field of vision, rounding on their opponent, his magnificent axe raised. Rage shot through Theseus, spurring him to heave his spear with a shout as his focus shifted from the mesmerizing, beauteous deity still moving toward him, to the traitorous bull preparing to swing. Asterius' eyes widened a fraction from the King's outburst. Betrayal and anger enveloped Theseus completely, building up, working it's way into each and every crevice of the King's hallowed heart, threatening to boil over even as his hand left the spear. The fiendishly handsome Prince of the underworld was _his_.

Then just as swiftly as they arrived, gone were the intimate whisperings of lovers not his own, and gone the need to hold and caress, replaced with the full bodily urge to maim. Fortunately, just in time for the champion to bring up his shield, barely blocking the heavy blow from the daemon's sword.  
  
Theseus twists, heart in his throat with worry, to see Asterius successfully knocking the incoming spear away, just as they had trained in countless sessions. His companion snorted, nodding at him. Of course he was fine, not even the hellspawn’s filthy ruse could touch the mighty Bull of Minos!  
  
It could, however, touch the King himself, as said hellspawn demonstrated with the gentle nudge of his blade, straight through the distracted shade's chest - an apologetic and overall ungodly expression on his pallid, dastardly face. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have another separate mostly-smut asterius/zagreus/theseus fic planned out, so any helpful criticism particularly on characterization is welcome.


End file.
